Relative Something

Recently, we have been contemplating what we might want to use for hauling small loads around the property. I have been inclined toward a trailer that fits the little Craftsman mower tractor, over the big diesel tractor. I decided to see how much work it was to detach the mower deck from beneath the tractor. If it was easy, I could see us putting that machine to greater use, beyond simply cutting grass.

On Saturday, I consulted the manual, and set about pulling a few clips and washers. It was a cinch! But, I got ahead of myself. I jumped right into the task, without considering where the mower was parked. It was between the New Holland diesel, and a wall in the shop garage. The manual instructed, once the mower is detached, just pull it out from the right side.

Oops. That was up against the wall. I tried sliding the tractor to the left, off of the mower, but there wasn’t enough room. Soon, I had it wedged between the wall and the diesel tractor. I did what I should have done from the start, and fired up the big tractor to pull it out of the garage.

(While I was at it, I took the bold step of finally removing the chains from the rear tires. I hate to tempt fate, but am feeling emboldened by the fact that the last 3 or 4 storms of accumulating snow ended up melting off the pavement without any intervention. These late-season snow storms don’t last long on the black asphalt under that April daylight.)

Now that the mower was out from under the tractor, I needed to see if it would start, after sitting all winter. It took some coaxing, but it finally popped. I buzzed up to the house, and Cyndie came out to marvel over my accomplishment. I decided to give her an introductory lesson.

“In my slippers?”

“Sure!”

She did great, except being a bit too tentative when she left the pavement, where the snow stopped her progress and a rear wheel just spun in place. I don’t have any chains for the garden tractor. Yet.

After that, we made a run in to Ellsworth to pick up some items at the hardware store, and maybe check out a diner we had yet to visit. Last time I was at the hardware store, they had a discount price on a nice little trailer that I thought might work just right for us. I measured the opening of the hatch on the back of my car, and brought the tape measure with to the hardware store.

The trailer was still there, and still marked down in price. I pulled out the tape measure. It was close. Too close, I thought. With all the angles of the opening of the hatchback, and the addition of the wheels that would need to clear, I was pretty sure we wouldn’t be able to get it home in my car. The sales clerk said he would check to see if they had one still in the box. They didn’t.

I told him that I wanted it, regardless. I would figure out a way to get it home. Maybe this would hasten the plans Cyndie has about buying a pickup truck. Speaking of Cyndie, she walked up and took one look and said she thought it would fit. That’s no surprise. She thinks everything is possible. I voiced my skepticism, and pulled out the tape measure, to justify it. I figure that she can’t argue with the tape.

The clerk offered to help see if we could get it in, if I just back my car up to the front of the store. I accepted his offer, but felt there was no way this would work.

It rolled right in, rubbing on all sides, not a centimeter to spare. Cyndie beamed. I smiled. We went to lunch at the diner. They made french fries out of fresh-cut potatoes. ‘Nuff said. The day was a perfect fit.